Indulgence
by Snotwing
Summary: Team fic. Sheppard tries to gain the trust of a runner who thinks he and his team are working with the wraith. He gets put in the hotspot when he's singled out to prove they're not. McKay's frantic, Teyla's injured, and Ronon's unconscious. Read&Review :
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the Stargate Atlantis characters. Only my mystery character for now. I am too poor to be making money from this fic.

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He glanced brusquely at his surroundings as the wormhole dissipated behind him. Almost immediately he began moving away from the desolate clearing around the gate. The open area left him feeling vulnerable; shelter must be found, quickly. He'd left three wraith dead on a planet with a purple sky and a white, cold sun. He skipped past three other lifeless planets, hoping to confuse any witnesses. Not that he was worried that the wraith weren't dead. If he killed something, it sure as hell stayed killed. He might have missed something, though. One couldn't be too careful. This planet, though, would be home for a short while. First he'd find shelter, a place where he could watch the gate, and then he'd rest. Food could wait.

As he moved, he continued to survey his surroundings, taking in more detail this time. The gate, in all its silvery splendor was located in a large, open plain. Soft rolling hills stretched behind it, fading into the distant twilight. A light wind tickled the reedy grasses and rattled through the leaves of the nearby forest. The trees the gate faced were impressive, even to him, who had seen scores of such worlds. The shortest tree couldn't be less than eighteen _ercos _– ten large men stacked atop each other couldn't reach the top. Yes, he could hide in the forest.

Upon reaching the fringe, he noted that the undergrowth wasn't nearly as thick as expected. He moved into the dark, canopied space. After only a few _denonds _of walking, he paused and crouched warily. Cocking his head, he listened intently to the silence. Where were the creatures of this planet? Night was slowly closing in and, as on any planet he'd been to, there should be a quiet, frantic bustle of activity. Nocturnal animals waking, preparing to hunt and calling to their mates, usual made a great deal of noise. He'd been quiet, too quiet to disturb any but those he directly stumbled upon. Something else was here. Something big.

It couldn't be the wraith hunting him. They had no way of knowing he would come here, he'd never come here before. In the distance he heard rustling. Something was not-so-quietly yabbering away, but the sound was too distant to distinguish. As it grew closer, the sound resolved itself into a voice- a whiny voice. Someone – he could tell now that there was a group of three or four of them, humans – responded irritably. Well, humans or not, he couldn't let them find him. Wraith worshippers, maybe. Unlucky ones.

Pulling out his weapon, a stolen wraith stunner, he stalked silently toward the oncoming group. Slowly, slowly, until he gained a visual. The lack of undergrowth made moving quietly easier, but made it more difficult to conceal his presence. He managed though. He always managed, that's why he was still alive.

There were four of them; three were male and the last was female. He could tell by the way they walked that they weren't expecting any trouble. Probably heading back to the gate. They could've used this planet as a meeting place, which would make them druggies or black market traders or bounty hunters or mercenaries. None of those possibilities fit, though. Whatever their purpose, they weren't looking for him. He could let them go without any harm done.

Suddenly, he froze. A ray from the waning sun reflected off the largest man's weapon. He knew that make. Satedan. The wraith culled that world almost a decade ago. Completely demolished, he'd seen what remained. He shifted slightly and the large man paused to listen, turning his way. The action gave him a good view of the man's face and erased all possibilities of the gun being collected by chance. This man was Satedan. He was sure.

That was impossible. Or, rather, he knew it was possible, but it left him only two conclusions. One, the man was a runner like himself or, two, he worked for the wraith. The first he ruled out quickly. The massive, dread-locked Satedan was well fed and rested. He lacked the haunted look that he'd glimpsed reflected in his own countenance in stale, still water. He'd left a perfectly good world because he couldn't face seeing what the wraith had done to him reflected in the lake there. This man was no runner. He couldn't let the Satedan and his friends go. They worked for the wraith – he had to kill them.

Silently, he crept towards the clueless enemy. This would not be difficult. The hardest part would be pulling the trigger. He _hated_ killing. _I can't let them go free. What harm have they already done? How many deaths will they cause if I let them go free? No, they _must_ die. _Taking a quiet, full breath to calm himself, preparing for what he was going to do.

A large rock jutted out near the base of an ancient tree. He made his way there, slightly ahead of the enemy group, knowing that it would provide him with a clear line of sight and also cover. He'd noticed the weapons the others carried as well. Once he reached the monolith, he flattened himself against it, waiting for his targets to come within range.

For their part, the enemy plodded steadily along. He tracked their progress with his ears. He had no trouble considering the incessant complaining of the one that had first alerted him to their presence. Maybe he should kill that one first. Surely his comrades would be grateful for a few moments without that one's shrill comments. Well, maybe only one moment. He had to kill them, too. The faster he fired, the easier it would be. They were almost there. He shifted slightly, so he could see them coming into range. As he did so, the Satedan looked up, straight at him.

Knowing he'd been spotted, he instantly brought his weapon up and fired.

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**A/N: **Cliff hanger! ;) Please review!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **see first chapter.

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Rapidly, he fired successive a successive burst, not even pausing to see if his first shot had hit the mark. They were professionals, he learned – they were already in motion, seemingly before their fellow hit the ground, taking cover behind nearby trees. He got off three more shots before he was forced to take cover. The enemy's weapons fired with an almost deafening bang, that contrasted starkly with the low hum of his own. He poked his arm up, twice more, using sound to target his enemies. True professionals would be able to drill him right between the eyes at this distance.

The rock ledge was good cover, but he couldn't get a decent shot off at his targets new position. He had to move. Warily, he began resting for longer periods between shots, hoping the enemy would think he was wounded or conserving ammo. He was really preparing to move. With one final lapse and then two quick shots, he slithered down the rock. Moving quickly, quietly, and keeping his body low to the ground, he wound his way through the thick trees.

Darkness had fallen completely. He'd taught himself to hunt proficiently in the dark, using his other senses to augment his sight. He moved directly down wind, listening carefully and sniffing the air lightly. His new position put him directly between the enemy group and the portal. They were still firing at the rock. He grinned savagely, two more steps to his right, and he'd have a clear shot. He aimed carefully, choosing the one most familiar with his gun. From his position, he could see the man's side and part of his back. Apparently deciding that the attacker was down, his target stood slightly and leaned forward. This motion offered him a shot not even a child could miss. He took it without hesitation.

The man dropped forward heavily. A soft groan came from ahead and to the left – where he'd left the Satedan. He _had _to finish this quickly. That was one problem with wraith stunners; it usually took more than one hit to kill. Not wanting to be drawn into another firefight, he charged the two left standing, dodging through the forest to make him harder to target. He imagined their military trainer would be pleased, they took his change of tactics in stride, firing at him without break.

A burning sensation in his left leg caused him to stumble slightly, but he refused to slow down. He was close enough to smell their fear and anger. He launched a flying tackle at the closer target – the woman – his weaponless hand stretched out to push her weapon away. His other arm he brought up to fire at the whiny man. Mid-leap his side caught on fire, but he trajectory wasn't changed. The woman went down and he slammed his hand down on her wrist with a satisfying crack. Gripping her head by the hair, he bashed her head into the ground, hard. She went limp underneath him, eyes rolling backward.

Grunting in pain, he pulled himself upright. Ignoring the fire that laced through his body, he stepped closer to the whiny man, determined to fire the killing shot. Before he pulled the trigger, he noticed a small screen-tablet lying next to the prone man. _Must've dropped it when I dropped him_, he thought dispassionately. But he knew that make too. It was Of the Ancestors. He sighed. He couldn't kill them now.

He had to question them.

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He shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. Darkness was still heavy on the forest, but he could smell false dawn. When he'd gone back for the Satedan, the man had already come to and was getting slowly to his feet. The man was good, actually gotten a shot off – and _close_ considering how groggy he must've been – before he'd managed to stun him again.

Not having any rope, he'd quickly searched the strangers' packs and found a strange sort of tie, which, though flimsy, was surprisingly strong. Still, they were deceptively thin, so he was sure to use two together, binding their hands behind their backs and their feet in front of them. None of them were injured badly, although the woman's brain was probably swelling, pushing against its bone casing. She might not be completely lucid for a while. His weapon had been on the middle setting, so he wasn't worried about any of the others.

Going through their things, he'd discovered many useful items. He stripped all of their weapons and piled them together, out of reach. The Satedan, he suspected, still had a few knives on him. He'd removed several, knew that Stateda was famous for its hand-crafted concealed blades. He'd also found something to bandage his own wounds. His leg had stopped bleeding, but still burned like fire. A flesh wound, he knew from experience, wasn't a great danger, but would hurt like the _chevilay_ while healing.

His side concerned him, though. It appeared that the small projectile had passed through completely, leaving a nasty exit wound. This was good; he hated hunting around his own innards for stray bullets, but he knew he might be bleeding inside. That would be bad – there's nothing he could do about that.

So he leaned against a tree, munching on some foul, dry concoction his prisoners carried with them. _Yech. Their pay must be awful, for them to carry this stuff around._ A low moan jerked him from his thoughts, and he raised the weapon resting on his thigh.

Just his luck, the loud one was waking.

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**A/N**: Sorry folks, if this is a little boring. Don't worry, I promise there will be some dialogue in the next chapter. ;} Please Review!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** All SGA character do not belong to me. I'm not making any money *pouts*. Harkan is mine, mine, mine. *grins a little*

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All right, waking up in an unfamiliar place was never any fun, but it was always worse when accompanied by a pounding headache. Dr. Rodney McKay groaned again, wincing as he shifted his left arm. His brain slowly trudged through blurry memories.

They'd been one their way back to Atlantis. The whole trip had been a _colosal_ waste of time. Hunting an elusive energy signature, they'd marched off into a creepy forest with twigs, branches, and rocks that seemed intent on tripping him every other step. The signature turned out to be nothing more than a tiny –and by tiny he meant _really_ tiny – rundown Ancient outpost. He'd managed to download what was left of the database, but he doubted it'd be of much use. The older technology used here was more vulnerable to corruption. Anyway, what could the Ancients have been studying on this rotten planet that would be useful to the Atlantis Expedition? Nothing. After determining that the energy source was unsalvageable (which took him much longer than he liked to admit) they turned back, hoping to beat night fall to the 'gate. He remembered Atlantis contacting them as they packed up, and Sheppard informing Atlantis that they'd be a little late coming home. So they trudged on, cranky, tired, and ready to be back home.

Of course something _had_ to go even more wrong. They'd been attacked. He knew there was only one, he'd check the life-sign detector, apparently the odds still hadn't been in their favor. Rodney fought to remember more. Teyla had been taken down with a bold flying tackle, right before he'd been shot. _Oh. My. God. I've been shot!_ Panic laced through him at this realization. His eyes flew open and he began to struggle, only to notice that he had been neatly tied up, hands and feet bound tightly.

Looking franticly around, he realized that the rest of the team was tied up, too, and still unconscious. _Great_, he thought,_ I get to be the first one to meet our new "friend". Thanks a lot guys._ He had been on his side in the dirt, facing Sheppard, who was in a similar position. Sitting up, a feat that proved to be extremely difficult, Rodney located Ronon in front of Sheppard. Turning, he found that Teyla was behind him. He didn't see anyone else though.

Maybe they'd just been left there. Maybe _he_ was gone. He started to hope. Rodney would take his chances with the indigenous wildlife over the savage that had shot him. _Shot _him.

"Wakey, wakey", came a rough voice. Rodney felt his stomach sink. He turned slowly to get a good look at the speaker.

The light of one of the planet's three moons filtered sparingly through the thick canopy above. Nevertheless, he could make out the shape of their attacker reclining against a nearby tree, even if it took him a minute to focus. The form matched his earlier fleeting impressions; about as tall as Sheppard, but with a much broader chest and thicker limbs. His muscles were well defined, but somehow the man still looked gaunt and underfed. _Like a wild animal, _he thought. The analogy didn't make him feel any better.

"Who are you? What do you want? I won't tell you anything, if that's what you think. Oh, god, you're going to torture me, aren't you? Look, maybe we can work something out. Just wait until Sheppard wakes up. He will wake up, right? No, no, you wouldn't have tied him if he was dead. SHEPPARD wake UP! Ronon!! Te-" He stopped when the form moved towards him. Damn. He always babbles when he's nervous. Rodney gulped as the man leaned over him, glowering.

"Quiet!", the man demanded harshly. He paused, glaring. When Rodney didn't say anything, he continued. "I am Harkan. Tell me what you are doing here."

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Harkan loomed over the whiny man. It had taken him a few minutes to remember what was going on, but as soon as he did, the noise started. The man began _screeching_ in a high-pitched voice, words tumbling out faster than a _sherka_ could fly. Grimacing, he yelled at the man to be _quiet. _He glared at the man, willing him to be submissive.

"I am Harkan. Tell me what you are doing here". For some reason, Harkan didn't really expect to get a useful answer from the panicky man. He'd definitely been fooled before, there was no way this man was a professional _anything._

"What? Why? This isn't some holy-ground, is it? Probably some stupid cave-man ritual. You're going to sacrifice us to your gods, aren't you? _Oh no!_ You're a wraith worshipper! You're gonna call your bosses and watch them feed on us! I knew it. I'm sooo gonna die today."

Harkan sighed as the man continued to babble. Wait. _Him_ a wraith worshipper? Clever. He growled and leaned closer to the man.

"Do NOT accuse me of being a wraith worshipper! Now, tell me where you got this!", he lifted the Ancestor's screen-tablet he'd found earlier.

The man's eyes widened and he opened his mouth, no doubt to spew more useless drivel. A groan from the dark haired man silenced him, however. For an instance, both men shot relieved looks toward the source of the disruption. Harkan's expression soon turned to impatience and the other man's to worry.

Both men waited with bated breath as the third man stirred slightly. His transition from unconsciousness to lucidness was much quicker than his fellow's. After taking stock of his situation, he turned to find his plaintive comrade already awake.

"McKay, you alright?" Harkan observed the interaction closely. The man barely spared him a glance. "What's going on?"

"Well…", McKay blinked and glanced nervously at Harkan. "Hair-key or whatever here decided to use us for target practice. He's been asking questions."

Harkan nodded, looking at the third man. Must be the whiny- _McKay's_ superior. Maybe he could get some answers.

"I want to know why you are here and where you got this, " he stated flatly, gesturing to the tablet. His prisoner tugged ineffectively at his bonds, then shrugged.

"Well, I'll do you one better. I'm Colonel John Sheppard, U.S. Air Force. Me and my team are explorers. _Peaceful_ explorers. We just came through the gate to have a look around. Nuthin' much here, though. As for that," he nodded to the tablet, " well, we just sorta found it lying around." Sheppard, that's what McKay had called him earlier, gave him a winsome grin and added, "Now that we've got that cleared up, how 'bout you untie us and let us go? We've got friends that'll come looking for us if we don't get back on time."

Harkan narrowed his eyes at Sheppard. The man was obviously a soldier, used to situations like this. _One point to him for asking first about his comrade's wellbeing, _he thought, _but even the enemy can be loyal to each other. _He mulled over Sheppard's response. He didn't think the man was lying outright, but neither was he being completely honest. He did believe the part about backup, though. Also, Harkan was worried about the wraith. Recently they'd been less than a day behind him. Something had caused them to hunt him more doggedly. All the more reason to get the answers he needed and leave.

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**A/N: **Reviews very welcome.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Sorry, guys. This story is unbeta'd so any mistakes are mine alone.

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A distinct whooshing sound emanated from the direction of the stargate. He could just barely make out the wet sucking sound the wormhole made when releasing its travelers. John grinned; backup was right on time. His captor looked up at the sound, and John wished he was close enough to take advantage of his distraction. Nevertheless, they'd be out of this situation soon enough. After sharing a triumphant look with McKay, he decided to give the attacker one more chance.

"That'll be our friends. Ya know, there's still time to work this out. Just let us go, and we can talk". John gave the brutish looking man a level stare. He seemed to mull that over before grunting and reaching for the knife on his belt.

"Oh, great. Another sparkling conversationalist. Too bad Ronon's still out, the two of you have so much in common," McKay interjected. "It'd be a cave-men unite type thing. I mean, you both possess the same great vocabulary, and the shoot first, prod the corpses later mentality. You've even got the same sense of personal hygiene, or lack thereof, I should say. You'd have to be Conan the Barbarian, though. You may smell more like an over grown ape, but you don't have nearly enough hair to play Chubbaka. Or, rather, Tarzan, thus sticking with the ape theme. Tarzan the ape-man attacks any who have the audacity to wear deodorant in his jungle.". John rolled his eyes. Trust McKay to always antagonize the guy with the weapon – especially with all of them tied up and at the mercy of said person. He thwacked McKay's shoulder with his bound hands.

"McKay!" Glaring, he enunciated slowly, "Soooo not helpful". Returning his attention to the guy with the gun –_and wicked sharp knife_, he thought to himself – he noted with some surprise that 'Tarzan' didn't look angry, but more like mildly amused.

"Hard time keeping this one alive?", Tarzan asked, prodding McKay with an animal skin moccasin/boot. McKay huffed indignantly and opened his mouth, most likely to launch a string of sarcastic insults.

"He, uh, makes up for it every now and again", John rushed out, hoping to prevent a classic McKay onslaught. At the sharp warning in John's expression, Atlantis' chief scientist and resident self-proclaimed genius closed his mouth with a snap. Tarzan snorted lightly at them.

"He must. Look, you want to keep him alive a little longer, you will do exactly as I say." Tarzan paused, leaned over and cut John's wrist bonds. "Got it?"

"Uh, shouldn't you have waited until I agreed to let me loose?", questioned John as he was rubbing the circulation back into his wrists. Tarzan just snorted and indicated the discarded pile of weapons.

"We're going hunting. Get what you need. Those weren't your friends."

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Harkan watched Sheppard closely as the soldier slid over to the pile, retrieved a knife to cut his ankle bonds, and then started arming himself with the strange projectile weapons he and his companions had used earlier. Sheppard handled the weapons easily, clearly very familiar with them. _Hope that means he's a good shot_, he thought. Well, he was going to have to be. At least six wraith had come through this time. He'd counted.

Harkan was vaguely surprised that they hadn't sent a dart through, if they were going to that much trouble. Then again, the fact that they hadn't probably meant that it was just another batch of hunters trying to salvage what was left of their wounded pride. He'd not only been successfully avoiding capture, but _striking back_ for the last five years.

Sheppard lingered at the weapons pile with his back to Harkan. The runner grunted, catching the man's attention, then motioned for him to move away from the pile and stand with his back to a nearby tree. This one would give him trouble if he wasn't careful.

He hoped his plan worked. Something McKay said before Sheppard came to seemed off. _"Oh, no! You're a wraith worshipper, aren't you?!"_ At first, he thought McKay was just trying to trick him, but after further examination he'd decided the man possessed no guile whatsoever. He said what he thought, _whatever_ he thought. _Man must make more enemies than I do, with that mouth. _

Sheppard's actions in battle would prove whose side they were on. After all, there were only two sides that really mattered in this galaxy – you were either for the wraith, or against them. Still, he'd have to keep an eye on the man, even if he turned out not to be a wraith worshipper. He scowled at Sheppard.

"Here's the deal. We're going hunting. You want your friends to live, you won't try any tricks. Think about shooting me and I'll shoot you first. Kill anything else that moves. Let's go." Harkan gestured for the soldier to move first, pointing in the correct direction.

"Now wait just a minute!", the whiny man squawked angrily. "You can't just leave us tied up here with bad guys roaming around! I clearly remember you saying something about keeping us alive! Maybe your pea-sized hasn't quite worked this out yet or this kind of logic is just beyond your cave-man mentality, but you are not our only threat. These mysterious bad guys find us, and we're gonners!"

"The louder you are, the quicker they'll find you. And if you don't want me to accidently shoot you, you won't move around too much", Harkan shot back over his shoulder, all ready prodding Sheppard into motion. Harkan marched ahead, subconsciously going into 'predator mode'.

If he'd looked back, he would have seen McKay visibly pale and the Satedan's silent form twitch tellingly.

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John moved nervously through the sparse undergrowth, watching for any sign of Tarzan's mysterious bad guys. They were moving towards the Stargate, but not directly. In order to reach it, they would have to turn, their path forming a distorted 'L'.

Tarzan seemed to know exactly where he was going, though, occasionally whispering terse instructions. The few times John had glanced back he caught his captor listening intently to – well, whatever it was, it was something John couldn't hear.

"Stop." The command was so low he almost missed it. He looked back only to be glared at and ordered with a quick hand motion to turn his attention forward. He waited quietly for a minute until he saw it. Wraith. John's heart thudded in his chest. What were they doing here?

Remembering Tarzan's earlier instruction,_ "Kill anything else that moves_", he brought his P-90 up and aimed carefully for the wraiths head. A bullet in the brain would drop him instantly. He's just lucky that this wasn't one of the soldiers with their thick walnut –like face armor. He doesn't wait for Tarzan. As soon as he has a clear shot, he fires, and then quickly dives behind a nearby tree, for cover. Two stun bolts hit the ground where he'd been just a second earlier. He heard the satisfying thud of a body hitting the forest floor.

He risks a glance just in time to see several rapidly fired stun bolts drop one of the two remaining wraith. Tarzan. _He must have moved while I was aiming. Damn, he's quieter than Ronon._ John half-crouched, keeping his gun trained on the position where the third wraith must've taken cover, and moved off in the opposite direction of his enemy/ally. They'd come at the wraith from two directions, keeping him from bolting. Who knew how many wraith were on this stupid planet?

He fired at the wraith's position, hoping to draw him out just enough for Tarzan to get off a good couple shots. _After this, I really need to stop calling him Tarzan_, he thought as he ducked back behind a tree. He felt the tree shudder as enemy fire struck it squarely. More fire, another satisfying thud. John waited. When he was satisfied the wraith was down he poked his head out looking for his fellow hunter. _Hunting wraith, _John thought absently, _this must've been just how Ronon did it, only without any help. Wait a minute…_

That would explain how the wraith knew they were here, because McKay said the Ancient outpost was completely dead. Tarzan was a runner, with a tracking device in his back. The wraith were looking for _Tarzan_ not the Atlantians. The runner stepped out of the early morning shadows too close to John. _Make that really damn quiet._

"Good. Thought you might be working with them. C'mon, there's more." Tarzan the Runner paused, listening, then pointed back the way they came. "That way, hurry."

John, his worry for his friends overcoming his curiosity, started off in the direction indicated by Tarzan's thick finger. The runner loped off in an adjacent direction, presumably planning to head off the wraith before they reached John's helpless team. Well, mostly helpless team. Ronon could no doubt take care of himself, even tied up. _That's provided he's conscious, _With that thought, he quickened his pace, glancing left to find that Tarzan had already disappeared into the woody surroundings.

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**A/N: **This is all I have written so far. Review if you want me to keep going.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Sorry guys, this one is a little short. However, don't let that distract you from the utter miracle that I've actually updated....

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The first thing Ronon Dex noticed was the tell-tale pressure around his wrists. A barely perceptible twitch of his foot let him know that his ankles were bound, too. He lay still, taking stock of himself and his surroundings. He'd been stunned – twice. His head was _killing_ him. His knees would probably be a little weak for awhile – not that he'd ever admit it – but he didn't detect any other 'problems'.

Concentrating, he realized he had heard some pretty important sounds earlier, when he was still thinking about his wrists. Someone walking off. No, wait, he heard _two_ people walking off. The soon-to-be-dead man and Sheppard. He also thought he heard –

"McKay", he groaned quietly.

"Ronon! Oh, thank god." McKay was whispering. Why was McKay whispering? "Look, Hack-air, or whatever, the bad guy, took Sheppard. He says there are bad guys out there and they're coming to find us. And Teyla's hurt. At first I thought she was stunned, but she's not. She's got a big lump on her head, and I think her wrist is broken. Our weapons are over there", McKay nodded to a pile about fifteen feet off in the morning fog.

_Must've been out most of the night_, Ronon thought, noticing the subtle grays light of the dawn for the first time. McKay kept going, still using that funny loud whisper of his. If there really were bad guys out there, McKay need to shut up.

"Shut up, McKay." Ronon used his mouth to pull a small concealed knife from his wrist guard. Once he got it loose he made short work of everyone's bonds, then ambled over to the weapons pile. What he saw there impressed him. Soon-to-be-dead guy had found and removed all but two of his hidden knives_. Must be familiar with Satedan weapons craft,_ he thought while quickly rearming himself.

"Stay here with Teyla," he directed the nervous scientist, handing him a gun.

"What? Where are you going? He said stay here. He'll shoot you again, and I can't take care of Teyla!" McKay blurted, hands fidgeting wildly.

"Going for Sheppard. Shoot the bad guys, you'll be fine. 'Sides, Lorne should be here soon." And with that, Ronon took off, fully intending to kill _all_ the bad guys and help Sheppard of his jam.

Harkan was _running_ through the forest; running because Sheppard hated the wraith just as much as he did. He'd seen that in the soldier's reaction to the wraith. While he still didn't understand the healthy and, apparently, free Satedan, he figured they were all on the same side, for now. Therefore he _would_ reach Sheppard's team first, before the wraith. He slowed down as he neared his destination, listening. Just then, he heard the gate activate. One object came through, not wraith. _Sheppard's friends, _he thought. Time was running short. Quickly, he changed his plans. Sheppard would have to deal with the wraith for now.

Moving with all the stealth he could muster, he approached McKay, who was silently caring for the woman. The Satedan was gone. _Good. He and Sheppard can handle the rest of the wraith and go back with their friends. _He pointed his weapon at McKay.

"Don't shoot, if you want your friend to live." McKay started violently, then, seeing Harkan's gun, slowly laid down his own.

"Okay. Don't hurt us." McKay held his hands up, palms out in surrender. "Look, Teyla needs a doctor. She might have a concussion and you broke her wrist". That last part came out thick with accusation.

"Stand up. Grab your gear, no weapons and no communication devices. We're leaving." Harkan waited to make sure McKay was doing as told, then bent down and carefully lifted Teyla's still unconscious form. He draped the woman over one shoulder, keeping her in place with one arm, leaving the other free to brandish his weapon to keep McKay in line.

Soon, he and McKay were walking towards the gate at a quick pace. His leg and side still burned from the wounds he received earlier, but he continued to ignore them. He made sure to arc their path widely, steering clear of the wraith and Sheppard, the Satedan, and their backup. He'd decided that the backup came in a ship since his 'hunter's instincts' hadn't picked up any extra commotion in the forest.

Thankfully, they reached the forest edge without incident. The gate, however, was guarded by two of Sheppard's people. Well, it could be worse.

"Here, take her", he heaved Teyla at the other man. "Walk towards the gate. They won't shoot you." McKay looked at him incredulously.

"What? You letting us go? Just like that? Why?" The man was genuinely baffled. Harkan growled.

"Just do it." And with that, he crouched and melted into the tall grasses. Luckily it wasn't light enough yet that he'd have a problem blending in with the weeds. McKay, while still uncertain, walked steadily towards the gate. Once the guards spotted him, they started jogging in his direction, one of them repeatedly tapping his ear. Concerned that he was trying to communicated with the whiny man, Harkan reached out with his foot, tripping McKay, who landed heavily, face-first. In one fluid motion he fired, still crouching, at the two men. Both men thudded to the ground.

Standing, he urged a bickering McKay to his feet and rushed him to the gate. With his gun pointed at McKay, who still carried Teyla, he dialed the gate one-handed. The sound of gunfire caused him to turn back to the trees. Sheppard and his friends emerged from the forest, shouting at him to let their friends go.

The wormhole flared to life and Harkan shoved McKay, Teyla, and himself through to the other side.

* * *

**A/N:** Classes are starting, so my schedule is getting fuller and fuller. If you want me to keep going you'll have to review, otherwise I probably won't do anything with it until after finals.


End file.
